Permission to land
NS August 7th, 2008
I woke up on Sunday with some kind of stomach ailment, resulting in many trips to the bathroom. This carried on into Monday and then Tuesday. By then I felt absolutely wiped out and couldn’t cope anymore so went to the GP. She suspected either mild food poisoning or gastroenteritis. Not much can be done about either except ride it out and stay hydrated. Thankfully the sickness part has finally gone but yesterday I was left feeling like I’d been hit with a ton of bricks. Just washing a dish was too much for my weakened body and I had to lean on the sink and take deep breaths numerous times before I got through the stack of plates and glasses. Walking to the store and back meant I had to lie down and take a nap when I got home. Today is not much better. I’m beginning to suspect that it’s not just the sickness that has knocked the wind out of my sails, but the business of baking this baby as well.
I’ve been feeling so good lately and this pregnancy has gone so well compared to The Noble Child’s that I think I’d forgotten that being nearly eight months along in August is probably going to limit what I can do. Just a few weeks ago I had such high hopes for the two months leading up to the birth — I would get the house clean and in order; get all of the baby things down, washed, folded, bought, organised and put away; get my new website up and running (yeah, did I tell you that I bought another domain and plan to start another site in addition to this one? yes, I’m mad); prepare for the birth; spend quality time with my family and friends and treat myself to days out, coffees and massages; get a few more article proposals sent off to the magazines I’m targeting; and continue with my daily routine of caring for a rambunctious two-year-old, keeping up with domestic chores, doing the shopping, paying the bills and managing the household budget, sustaining my marriage and finding time for blogging, reading and other activities I do on on a regular basis.
All I can say is: Self, were you momentarily deluded or are you certifiably, undeniably FUCKING INSANE? Did you forget that you’re growing another human being inside of you and that the last two months are not wholly dissimilar to certain scenes from popular horror movies including The Blob, Psycho, The Exorcist and Alien? Did you forget that you’d be getting up anywhere from 2-4 times a night to pee and that turning over in bed would be like a turtle on its back with molasses smeared on its shell trying to flip over? Did you even stop to think about the cruel fact that at the one time in your life when you could truly do with a pot of coffee, a case of Red Bull and a pack of smokes to keep you going that you will be forbidden to do so by your fetal friend? You didn’t think being impregnated while you had a toddler and at the height of summer would really be that big of a deal, did you? YOU ARE AN IDIOT, SELF.
So as of today, I am abashedly but not ashamedly admitting a defeat of sorts. This baby has kicked my ass and lowered my expectations to such an extent that from here on out my goals leading up to the birth are: keep TNC alive and reasonably clean; keep the house just clean enough that social services couldn’t take action if they saw it, even though they might want to; don’t get divorced; keep myself alive. A much simpler, more attainable list, don’t you think? It’s important to have goals but they really need adjusting once in awhile. I am hereby giving myself permission to come in for a landing. If I get my energy back and can get some of the things on my list crossed off, great. If not, anyone who thinks I’m lazy can BITE ME. Soon, I will be pushing something the size of a Virginia honey-baked ham out of an opening the size of a lemon and that officially qualifies me as a superhero capable of crushing degenerates who think this whole procreating thing is easy for women.
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Super Incubator! Screw world peace and protecting innocent citizens, my special power shall be taking naps and baths whenever I damn well please. And I don’t even need a cape to do that. A tiara might be nice though.
